Mad Max: The Razor's Edge
by War Boy Hak
Summary: Two War Boys traverse The Wasteland to uncover the secrets of Immortan Joe's regime. With the forces of the God King of the Citadel pitted against them, it will take more than a V8 engine to escape with their lives.
1. Chapter 1

Mad Max: The Razor's Edge.

Chapter One: War Pup's Lament.

The air hung still, as if Mother Nature knew a storm was coming, even though it didn't rain much anymore. The silence stung like sweat in an open wound; something was coming, though not even the seers could sense it. In the deepest distance, a bit of sand, the redness of the road rash that the soil had become, kicked up. The insects that survived the end and claimed their place in the new order of things were the first to feel it. A distant rumble, an aggressive hum that crescendoed only for a moment and then fell away, snuck around the perception of the lesser creatures. Still, they knew something was coming.

The rumble rose again, higher, faster, angrier, then began to fade, but only for a moment, as the silence was punctuated with great force by a down-draft; a glottal stop in an unholy growl. A glint appeared on the horizon; the dust that blew in from the vomitorium opposite, then it quickly retreated as the rumble surged in again. The hum grew larger, louder, and became sharp, burning away the basso veneer until it became a whine that attacked the senses; deafening ears and stabbing vision until it squinted in uncertainty. The white-hot whir hastened as the glint shined brighter and brighter; then, in a chorus of mayhem, another joined; then another, and another, and more still. The rumble returned and echoed like the report of a super-cell thunderstorm in a mountain valley.

From the annals of time itself, great rusted machines charged through the sand-wastes with whooping soldiers of the apocalypse at their helm. This was the new order, and war had been declared.

"Watch and learn, Small One," said the soldier who spearheaded the charge; he commanded a 3.8 liter V8 engine and the heavy iron body of a former luxury car turned apocalyptic convertible, with the knowledge and charisma to charge headlong into a suicide and come out the other side with rewritten odds.

" _By my deeds... I honor him. V8_ " the smaller boy in the passenger seat muttered under stolen breath, "and for those about to rock, _we salute you_."

The driver gave his number two a slight side-eye, but looked back at the road ahead of him through thick blowtorch goggles, focused on the task ahead of him. While his passenger said his prayers, the driver only said his goodbyes. It was the same, every mission, every fuel run, every ambush; he always said goodbye to those whose lives he would soon end. His counterpart, joyous in his pursuit of death, looked out for himself and always tried to look 'worthy' in what could be his last moments.

"Issa good day t'die, ain' it Shox?" 'Small One' asked: a smile crossed his boyish features and a spark of joy burned in his eyes like a guzzoline fire.

"No Hak," Shox replied, "it is a good day to survive."

"You suh-vive alyoo want," Hak retorted, " _I_ am awai'ed in Valhalla."

Hak was but a small boy; a child in what passed as the dawn of his life. His green eyes glittered like the fading paint-job on a new machine. His head had been shaved recently, before the locks of blond could grow in; he had insisted that it not be allowed to take a foothold. He had to remain "War Ready." To Hak, there was no downside to life and its perils, only another opportunity to become immortal.

Suddenly, a high-powered roadster galloped ahead of the convertible and cut off Shox's kamikaze approach. In the plume of dust that leapt up from under "Esme's" wheels, he recognized the driver and spat in disgust. The roadster's driver peeled himself from its seats and approached the passenger's side of the Benz convertible.

"Small One Hak," he muttered in agitation, "you are not to be here. War Parties are only for worthy War Boys; those deemed so by the God King of the Citadel, Immortan Joe, those who are awaited in Valhalla."

Shox felt the anger that choked Hak like bile. He could have written the words that scratched and clawed forth from his throat.

"I _am_ a War Boy; fueled by guzzoline an' thirsty for blood! I am awaited in Valhalla, and you shall witness! By my deeds, I honor him! V8!"

The driver simply shook his head.

"Pitiful little Hak, you are not a War Boy. Now come along, back to the Citadel."

Hak balled his fists as tears that pricked and stung like the pop of a grease burn welled up in his eyes. The rumble of the War Party grew closer; Shox guessed that they would be upon the scene in two minutes.

"Get gone, Hak" Shox barked, "live and see another sunset. _Now_."

"Shox!"

A hard shove met his protest and he toppled over the side of the car and into the dirt. The driver hoisted him to his feet and kept a tight grip on his shoulder; he was led to the roadster as his companion sped off again. The noise and heat of the roadster's cab was an all-too-familiar place for him, but it never lessened the bitterness of the ride back to the Citadel.

"Slaine," Hak croaked as the white paint of his arm smudged from the warm tears he tried to hold back, "why? You tryin' shame me? You say Joe don' wanta ridda me?"

Slaine grew tired of repeating himself, but knew that he had no other option.

"You, Hak, are _not worthy_. You _are not a War Boy_ ; you are a runt who is otherwise without shelter if it were not for the benevolence of the God King. You have humiliated yourself _again_ , Hak. Your 'friend' Toxic Shox takes pity on you, but you just slow he... you _just slow him down_."

"Don' you speak Shox name like dat," Hak muttered in a flash of anger behind the steady tears, "Shox more man than you _easy_. You _jealous_ Shox, Slaine? You mus' be, way you talk about him."

"Me? Jealous of Shox? You really _are_ a delusional little crybaby, Hak. Oh, and, try and cry into your arm. There are still tear marks on the seat from the last two times."


	2. Chapter 2: Like a Road Rash

Chapter Two:

"Like a Road Rash"

The roadster bounced and clamored over the dunes, hills, and uneven terrain as it headed back to the relative comfort of the Citadel. Hak's tears did not survive but a quarter of the trek back; a new personal best to be sure.

"Slaine," Hak said gruffly, "you ann' e, we gotta get one thing arrow, yeah?"

Slaine's brows jutted; first in confusion over his passenger's ratrod vernacular, seemingly crafted by its only native speaker somewhere in between a fever-dream, a war party, and a bout with the horrors that patrolled his subconscious when the satellites streaked into visibility overhead, and then by the moxie that spun underneath his words like a drivetrain.

"Okay Hak, what do we have to get straight between us?" Slaine asked, "Or, at least, that's what I think you mean..."

Hak nodded.

"You an' Shox ain' friends, yeah?"

Slaine's glance shifted aside for a second, then returned.

"It's no secret that I _respect_ what Toxic Shox has done for..."

"Sidecar," Hak said abruptly, "pure sidecar. Get on it."

"...then no," Slaine replied, frustrated.

"Know that. You ain' call me 'Small One' no more, good? You ain' Shox? Then I ain' 'Small One.'"

Slaine stifled a laugh.

"Then what do I call you?"

Hak beamed.

"I have a name" he replied, "but if that ain' your style, you can call me what the others call me... what my broda Nux call me..."

"Which is?"

"Small Block!"

The essence of the nickname was lost on Slaine. Undeterred, Hak pushed on.

"You know? Small Block! Like, small block V8? Issa mantle. Not th' biggest, but I'm a War Boy! Still a War Boy, Slaine; still awai'ed in Valhalla!"

Slaine turned his attention back to driving and away from the tagalong War Pup who beamed at his frustration. He told himself that Hak would either die, or have understanding beaten into him, and all he had to do was wait it out. Either that, or Toxic Shox's luck would finally run out and, with his only protector out of the picture, it would be easy to scrub the insolent little shit from existence. A satisfied smile crossed his face and remained there for the duration of the trip back to the citadel. Slaine disliked his job as Immortan Joe's shepherd, but he hoped that it would, one day, gain him some sort of acknowledgement, and so he kept his post.

The oasis of the Citadel appeared in Hak's line of sight and his guts turned. He hoped that a beating from one of the able-bodied sons of Immortan Joe did not wait for him on the other side of the rocks. He had no plans for the afternoon; dying was really the only thing that was ever hard-fastened to his mental calendar, and so he decided that, if he could avoid the beating, he'd go check in with his 'big broda' Nux.

"Now, Small One," Slaine began.

" _Small Block_ ," he corrected.

"...Hak, return to your quarters and do not leave unless you are ordered."

"Noway," Hak chimed at once, "I go when Shox go. Tough shit, Slaine. I see you again! Fanks fo' th' ride back!"

Hak exploded out of the seat and slammed the door behind him; he took off in a mad scramble for a place of refuge. The young War Boy skidded around corners, dodging his brothers-in-arms and keeping just out of their reach, should the hold him for the exasperated shepherd. Lucky for 'Small Block' he was agile and able to outrun anyone who tried to pursue him. He skidded around one last corner and came face to face with some familiar scars.

"Nux! How you, Broda?"

Nux looked his little brother up and down and smiled.

"Staying out of trouble, Hak?" he asked weakly.

"No trouble," he beamed, "Too quick fir' it."

"So, if Slaine comes to me later and asks where you are..."

"Slaine?" Hak asked as he tried to disguise the yelping noise he made when his overseer was first mentioned, "He lookin' for me, broda? Nobody mention."

He shrugged and exaggerated his motions to try and convince Nux that all was okay.

"...so I _didn't_ just see you come around that corner at full-speed?"

Hak beamed and shook his head. His "older brother" beckoned him closer: he was hooked up to an IV with a wilting bloodbag at the other end. He put a hand on the top of Hak's head and patted him gingerly.

"You _gotta_ stay outta trouble, Small Block."

"Hear ya, Nux. Really. Shox tells me all the time."

"Then why does stuff like this keep happening?"

Hak shrugged.

"...I'm popular?"

Nux smiled at his little brother's quick wit.

"Not always a good thing in The Citadel, Small Block."

A sudden crash and calamity echoed around the corner and, in an instant, Nux pushed his little brother behind him and stood up. Weak as he was, Nux wasn't about to let his little brother get wrecked, even if it _was_ his fault.

"Whoever comes around that corner," he said, "stay quiet, Hak."

"You goddit broda" Hak replied.

Five War Boys rushed in and quickly blocked off the closest exit. Hak knew each of them, or most of them, in passing only.

"Move, runt," the War Boy in the center said, "the runtier one is the one we want."

"No," Nux said and put an arm on Hak to keep him a little farther out of reach, "you'll tear him limb from limb!"

"That's _kind of the idea_ , Nux."

The two War Boys on the end to Hak's left shifted their posture and relaxed a little; they had probably only been roped in with the promise of a rumble.

"Come on, Axel" the leftmost War Boy said, "he's just a Pup... you said we were gonna finally get that guy Shox. I'm not here to beat up a scrawny little War Pup..."

The lead War Boy turned to his dissenter.

"Then what are you here for?! You're a War Boy, aren't you? You live to fight? _Here's a fight_! Go to it!"

"You're not gonna do _anything_ " another voice said as it crept around the corner.

Axel and his posse turned to locate the source of the new difference in opinion. Upon locking eyes, the two nearest War Boys made a move to break rank and run for their lives. They made two successful shambles before a pair of hands seized the smaller of the two and tossed him out of view. In an effort to save face, Axel cut off his compatriot's scramble to the back of the room and turned him around to fight; this move proved foolish, as he was lifted off of his feet and thrown like a dart into the remaining backup.

"Axel..." the voice replied, "get away from him."

Axel puffed out his chest in defiance.

"And if I d-"

Before he could complete the thought, a haymaker crashed into the soft skin underneath his jaw and Axel was able to look down and confirm that his boots didn't make the trip upstairs with him. The metaphorical elevator was a fast one, but before the bottoms of his feet could touch the dusty floor, another hard haymaker landed flush and he found himself on the express elevator right back up. Something rushed forward and pinned him a third of the way up the wall and, soon after, he encountered the worst gut pain of his life. Closed fists and what felt like the occasional elbow pummeled his belly and up to the middle of his ribcage.

"Value what you still have," the voice rasped, "let him go and I let you live."

Axel drooled a long, thick, strand of gristle and blood that landed in the dirt with heavy splatter sounds and turned the reddish-orange floor black in nickel-sized splotches. He wheezed and coughed, but nothing sounded like an apology to his assailer's liking, so as he fell to the floor in a heap, his jaw was cracked against the metal in the toes of his boot.

"Live, die, it's all the same" Shox said "just depends when your number comes up."

He walked over to Hak and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Are you okay, Small One?" he asked.

"Wow Shox! You wreck him _merciless_!" the young War Boy exclaimed.

Shox shook his head: Hak was fine,

"What about you, Nux?" he asked.

"Still breathing," Nux replied and sat back down, "...tired, but still breathing."

"Good enough. Thanks for holding them off."

Nux gestured in acknowledgement and thanks; the last thing he needed was to get wrecked over a beef his little brother was involved in.

"If you can stand, get up and get the fuck out of here," Shox said to the War Boys that remained, "if you _can't_ stand, get one of the ones who _can_ to help you. Go on now, _get lost_."

The two used as a crash barrier picked themselves up and helped their projectile friend to his feet. He assisted them in lifting Axel into a fireman's carry, but couldn't do much more. The injured limped away the best they could and left the three to their discussion.

"I wonder what that was about..." Shox asked, annoyed in already knowing the answer.

Hak shrugged and looked to Nux, who glared in surprise of his silence.

"I'm not even gone til' dark and look at what I have to come back to" Shox said in frustration.

Nux smirked.

"...'least you _came back_."

"Watch it, Shaky, or I'll wreck you too."

"Wish you would."

"You eggin' me on, weakling?"

"What, like it's hard?"

Shox bared his teeth and Nux sprang to his feet the best he could.

"I could put that pole through your head and _people would thank me_..."

" _Sure. Kill the last friend you have. Who'll stick up for you? I may not be much, but I have people who listen to me_."

Shox stared a hole into the front of Nux's skull.

"Like I need _your_ protection. I've fought off hunger pains bigger than you; The only reason you're still around is because baby needed a playmate and someone to look up to. You remember that. _You aren't here for me. I don't need you. You are here for_ ** _him_**."

Nux turned away and looked at the floor. Suddenly, right as Shox moved to cut him down again, he put a hand up and pointed in Hak's direction. Shox lowered his hands and sighed; tears streamed down the young teenager's cheeks. A sob wavered and teetered in his chest like an imbalanced scale.

"Hak," Shox said gently, "I didn't mean it. I let my anger take hold of me; you... you're my fr..."

Hak's throat burned raw; the same burn after a war party, a burn that would linger for days, but this was more abraded and caustic than an exploded car battery. His only friends, his sole reasons for fighting, didn't need him around.

"Izzat how you rilly feel, Shox? You ain' gotta trai'or me... I can t-take it. Ain't big, ain't strong... know that... but I guess I ain' really a War Boy neither..."

Though Nux stood again and put a hand on his shoulder to try and comfort him, Hak slipped out of his grasp and pushed past Shox to get to the door. As soon as he stepped over the two other War Boys that were still slumped outside, he got his feet under him, caught some speed, and took off for anywhere else.


	3. Chapter 3: Blacktop to Gastown

Chapter Three:

Blacktop to Gastown

The ever-present dust swirled through the empty spaces in the Citadel's surrounding canyon. The sun still traced its high arc in the sky, and the sound of metal being struck timed out a plodding rhythm. A young man, wispy and wiry in construction, hammered a dent out of a metal body that had been dumped off of an assembly line a forgotten number of years ago. A fan blade from an engine block spun where his ribcage met, and the handle of a pull-cord hung to the side. Heavy welding goggles helped keep the sweat out of his eyes as he banged away, keeping in time with the fan's motion.

"Bang bang here, bang bang dere, make this car go ev'rywhere..." he sang in a childish rhyme, "Ain't got time, ain't got room, gotta make this car go 'Vroom!"

He laughed to himself and his rhyme descended into gleeful nonsense. He worked alone, but his voice carried and filled the garage. A V8 engine, capable of kicking out 480 horsepower, hung precariously overhead in a chain hammock. The young man slithered over and began to lower the engine block into place. The car was a work of love, but it wasn't his own. He possessed an uncanny knowledge of internal combustion engines and could make them sing his praises, even as their drivers pushed on towards a final destination.

With a throttling _yank_ , he pulled the heavy chain back up and left the engine suspended in midair.

"Who dere?" he muttered to the silence, "No one 'llowed in Blackthumb Crank's garage..."

"...got nowhere else t'go, Crankshaft... you mind I stay here for a bit? Won't sleep here, give you that, but I got no friends now..." a smaller voice replied from the shadows.

"Hak!" Crank replied in elation, "Come out de darkness! You good here!"

Hak jumped down from a forgotten toolbox and stood up into a sunbeam on the rocky floor. The redness around his eyes told Crank all he needed to know. He snaked his way over to the small War Boy and put a hand on his shoulder.

"No tears, Small Block," he said, "I show you something, make you smile..."

He pointed up at the engine block that, with a lacking counterweight, would incidentally crush him flat. Hak took a step back and looked up at it in wonder, while Crank went back to his work and lowered it into place.

"It not ready yet, but soon" he said, "you gonna burn 'em all."

"Youa good friend, Crank" Hak said and rubbed the sting from his eyes, "you kihnda hahd t'understand sometimes, but you're alright."

Crank laughed.

"Pot-kettle black, Hak" he replied.

Crankshaft was a bit of an unusual prodigy amongst the Blackthumbs; even with knowledge of engines and vehicles, he used methods of repair that were unconventional to say the least. Chewing gum was a favorite adhesive and Hak wasn't sure where he got it from, nor was he sure how he got it to stay on whatever surface he'd stuck it to, regardless of speed or wear and tear. Paperclips and duct-tape found their way into most of the machines he worked on, but Hak made him promise that, when he worked on _his_ car, he'd keep it strictly by the book; no shortcuts, no gum, no paperclips.

"So what happen?" Crank asked as he got back to work on the car.

"Shox say he don' need me or Nux. Nux's just here t'be my 'playmate' or something" Hak said sadly, "but how can 'e say that? Nux my broda, Crank..."

Crankshaft was a year or two older than Hak, and had reached Blackthumb rank before Hak was even in admiration of the older War Boys. He knew things about Toxic Shox that Hak could only guess at.

"You no worry 'bout Shox, he just angry. Tryin' keep you from gettin' killed."

"If I die, I'mmonna die on the Fury Road!" Hak fired back.

"Sure, 'less you get squashed by your own 'fore dat happen!"

"I can handle myself!"

"Uh huh... hand me that C-Wrench?"

Hak looked behind him and picked up a medium-sized crescent wrench.

"This one?"

"Dat Medi?"

"Yeah."

"Shine."

Hak handed him the wrench and Crankshaft got back to work.

"All I'm sayin' is," he continued, "we gotta look out for each other, okay Hak? You, me, Nux, an' Shox. We all we got."

"You right. Crank. Iss just hard t'hear stuff like that from Shox..."

"Keep you head up, Small Block. You show your use one day."

After a few hours of assisting Crankshaft, he deemed that the car he worked on was finally war ready. A raw steel Ford Model A gleamed back at him, shiny and chrome. From the tip of the blower to the rubber she put to the road, Hak was sure of one thing: she was worthy. He could barely contain himself as he nearly shook himself to pieces with the excited and nervous energy.

"Don' thank me yet," Crankshaft said, "jus' don' die by gettin' squooshed by another War Boy. If you gonna die, go die on the Fury Road."

An affirmative shriek was all that Hak could manage. He helped his Blackthumb load the car onto a disused platform and then raced back to tell his big brother what had transpired. As fast as his legs would carry him, Hak jumped, climbed, and sprinted back to the room where he'd found his friends before, to find a solemn looking Nux sitting by himself.

"Broda!" Hak exclaimed, "You gotta come see!"

Nux's face brightened when Hak came into view, and hearing him excited about something was cause enough for him to smile. He picked himself up and tightened the laces on his boots.

"You good t'come walk, broda?" Hak asked.

"I can" Nux replied, "I don't care how far it is."

"You ain't gotta come with if you dun' feel up to it,"

"No no, Small Block," he said, "I want to see what's got you so excited."

Hak took Nux's hand and led him into another cavern of the Citadel, down and away into Crankshaft's garage. He maintained an odd pace, excited to show off his war machine to his big brother, but also wary enough to move at a pace that wouldn't tire him out.

"Hak," Nux said after they began the short ascent up to the bay of Crankshaft's garage, "wait a second."

Hak caught a breath in and slowed to a stop before he turned around.

"Yeah broda?" he asked.

"Look, Shox and I talked earlier. We made up. Don't be too hard on him if you see him later, okay?"

Hak nodded.

"No sweat, broda. Me an' Crank talk too. Yoo an' me, we family. We all we got."

"Thanks, Small Block" he said, "but what about Shox?"

"Me an' Shox, we a team, like yoo an' Slit. We War Boys. We good."

Hak put a hand up and peered around the corner. When he didn't see anyone on the other side, he called out,

"Blackthumb Crankshaft, we come fo' a test drive! Iss Hak an' Nux. Where yoo at?"

After a minute, a voice scratched back at them.

"Come on, boys."

A jolt shot down his neck and struck in his gut like a crack of lightning.

"That ain't Crankshaft," Hak said, "but... What yoo doin' here, Shox?"

Nux and Hak swung around the corner and came face to face with their compatriot. He smiled at them, but still held an uneasy air in his gait.

"Call's just gone up, Joe needs a team for a Kamakrazee run to the Gastown gates. Something about a gift for the third son... I don't know, but I volunteered Hak and I" Shox said, "and I figured I could find you here."

"A run to the _gates_ of Gastown? Something doesn't sound right about that..." Nux said skeptically.

"Okay, well, I kind of lied," Shox sighed flatly, "it's more of _I was volunteered by the fact that Immortan Joe wants me dead_ , and he figures that now's as good a time as any."

"How do you figure that?" Nux replied.

"Look."

Shox pointed out of the opening that formed the mouth of the cave in which Crankshaft made his living. The sun was even with the ground and the coming twilight meant that Buzzards would be on patrol. This _really was_ a Kamakrazee mission, and Joe wanted them to know it.

"Well, we'd better get moving" Nux said, knowing better than to question what would happen if Shox were to turn down a mission. He turned halfway to nudge his little brother, but came up against air.

"Hak?" he asked, scanning the area behind him.

A thunderous rip of V8 combustion greeted him, and he turned in startled surprise to see him already behind the wheel of his death-machine. The smiling War Boy gunned the throttle and gestured for the other two to get in. The proud Blackthumb manned the elevator button as the passenger door of the coupe opened and shut, and a single tear of pride fell down his gaunt cheek, as the elevator lowered the car to the earth below. When the elevator stopped moving, Hak eased the car onto the sands and on towards The Last Road. They eased past the towering rock spires of the Citadel without a word between them. They only spoke again when a tandem of War Boys flagged them down just before they snaked out of the Citadel's shadow.

"Who're you?" the War Boy with four horizontal slashes in the meat of each shoulder asked as Hak cut the engine.

"I'm Hak," he said proudly, "you prob'ly know my broda Nux an' my friend Toxic Shox. We makin' the run to th' Gastown gates."

"Oh yeah," he replied, "hey Shox. Thought you weren't gonna make this one..."

Shox only shook his head.

"Anyway, here's the box. Don't look in it. Don't lose it..."

"Goddit" Hak replied hastily, "Dun' worry, yoo can count on me."

The other War Boy shrugged and motioned for his second to hand over the box. It immediately went to Shox, who set it on the floorboards of the car. With a V8 salute, the car rocketed off and left the two bewildered War Boys in the dust. The plume of dust that blew behind the tailpipes of Hak's machine grew faint as he came closer and closer to the withered strip of tarmac that connected The Citadel and Gastown.

"Alright Hak," Shox said, "nice and easy. They know we're coming. No need to go crazy and hit 'em with the full fury of your engine."

Hak scoffed.

"By my deeds, I honor him. V8..."

Shox mouthed the words he knew would follow.

"...and for those about to rock, we salute you."

The gearshift dropped into drive and Hak's foot put the pedal to the floor. Nux and Shox exchanged nervous glances before they were thrown back into the seat. The dust kicked up in the lurch forward got into the eyes of the two War Boys left in the distance by the quickly accelerating vehicle.

"We make th' gates _easy_ " Hak said, "yoo watch. We go supersonic inna few seconds!"

The Ford, out of The Citadel's shadow, barreled toward the gleaming, if only by comparison, skyline of Gastown. The former oil and gas refinery fell upon hard times after the end; by some miracle, it continued to function, derelict as it was, pumping out oil and guzzolene that fueled the armies of Immortan Joe and the like, all overseen by The People Eater, under the watchful eye of the third son of the Immortan, Scabrous Scrotus. The fires of the refineries could be seen as far east as the shores of the Great White, on to the beginning of The Big Nothing. As long as the fires burned, the forces of the Immortan ruled over The Wasteland. The seedy underbelly of the grimy, sludgy, metropolis looked out for their own, but only when it was mutually beneficial. When people disappeared into the walls of Gastown, under the constant haze of smoke and pollution, they seldom returned.

Still, the pavement of The Last Road put a comfortable interval between the boys and the inevitable. The wind which pushed the unending sands across the expanse were calm, almost favorable, for an evening cruise. The ever-ascending whine of the engine and the quiet rumble of the understandably worn tires against the eroded tarmac could clearly be heard, a welcome change from the usual cacophony of war. Shox looked over at his younger friend; Hak looked as though he could choke on his smile. The speed of the car kept the older boys on edge, but even Nux managed to smile after dispatching the initial unease. This, he thought, is what his little brother was meant to do. The raw-steel war machine laid rubber to the road and raced the sun into the horizon. Hak wanted to scream, whoop, and holler as was customary with War Parties, but he could not bring himself to issue any noise at all. The sound of the engine was all he could focus on; that, and the weary tarmac in front of him (much to the relief of the occupants of the car). The heavy gates of Gastown grew closer, as the piles of junk, jetsam, and detritus grew larger and larger around them. The sky burned purple with the fading coals of daylight before the ashen nightfall overtook them in time. The sentries and longshots of the warlord gave them passage, but the boys knew that passage _back_ was not guaranteed. The gates rose out of the earth and all that remained was the woeful iron bridge in the approach.

"Do we geh outta th' car?" Hak asked as he finally found his words.

"You stay, Hak," Shox said, "Nux and I will go. If anything goes wrong, _get gone_. You understand?"

"Yeh," Hak replied, "but yoo fink somefin's gonna happen?"

"I can only hope not," he replied, "for their sake."

Hak nodded resolutely.

"Hey Nux," he said, "did I do okay?"

"Yeah, little brother," Nux chimed reassuringly, "real shine."

Shox couldn't help but smile at Hak's reaction to his brother's praise. Hak didn't notice the two small tears in his eyes, but Shox definitely saw them.

"Alright," he said and tapped Nux in the shoulder, "action. Come on."

Nux and Shox exited the vehicle and Hak took the opportunity to turn around and prepare to bolt if necessary. A sentry met the pair in front of the gate.

"You the envoy from The Citadel?" he asked in a gruff, dry, tone.

"Right," Shox replied, "Immortan's Delivery Service. You make sure this gets to the Warlord, yeah?"

"Of course," he said and signaled to the gatekeeper.

A knot rose in Nux's throat.

"Just the three of you then?" the sentry asked as he took the package from Shox.

"Three?"

"The two of you, and your driver there?"

"Right. Three of us."

"Not so fast. You wait right there."

The gate opened and the sentry disappeared behind it. A knock developed in Nux's knees as Shox looked tentatively back at the car. He raised his hand to the side of his ribcage and waited to give the signal.

"How many you think he's got back there?" Nux asked.

"Ready? Maybe thirty, and thirty's a lot more than two."

"It's a lot more than three."

"That's what I said. It's a lot more than two."

The sentry reappeared carrying a green jerry can in each hand.

"Compliments of the Warlord, for your trip back" he said, "two full cans of guzzolene."

Nux almost sighed in relief, but caught himself halfway to exhaling.

"Thanks," he said, "any time."

The two boys backed away slowly and set the cans at the Lancer's position in the back of the car. The doors opened and closed and fire shot out of the tailpipes of the Ford as it sped away.

"He almost made yoo!" Hak said excitedly as they crossed the iron bridge.

"I'm sure he was never gonna do anything," Shox retorted.

"Yoo din' look it!" Hak laughed, "yoo weh ready t'fight!"

"...but I'm _always_ ready to fight."

It was now early night, as the last bits of sun burned away. A new fear entered the minds of the two older War Boys, something they knew was always just out of sight, just barely in their peripheral vision until it was too late. Hak knew not of this unknown known; he flicked on his headlights and put the pedal closer to the floor.

"Good, good," Shox thought, "come on, they're closer than you think."

Nux looked out the window at the sprawling desertscape; they were in open territory now. It was a straight shot, but through dangerous ground. Goosebumps rippled across his back as a primer. The sound of another engine meant certain death.

"Tomorrow," he thought, "just let me live and see a sunrise."

The sickness weakened him; just enough to beg the question of how hard he could fight if the unknown became known. He would not let them get to Hak, of that he was certain, but not of much else.

The Citadel rose into view, but was still a long way off. The V8 engine cut through the night and roared as the speedometer climbed; a siren song for them. A flash of light brought Nux to high alert.

"There!" he said and shot forward.

"Where?!" Shox asked, a sweat forming on his neck.

Nux looked around, his eyes darting in and out of the distance.

"I... I just... where did...?"

Shox gripped Hak's shoulder.

"Faster, Small One," he said in a slapdash calm, " _fang it_."

"Yoo goddit" Hak said confidently, still unaware of the potential danger all around him.

The V8 screamed as metal touched metal and backs touched the seat.

"You see it again?" Shox asked as he returned to sweeping the dunes.

"No, but I'm lookin' for it" Nux replied.

"Sharp it up."

"Right. Hey, if I'm wrong about it..." Nux said after a moment's hesitation, "...sorry."

Shox shook his head.

"It's best we get baby home..." he said gruffly, "...and better you be too jumpy and false alarm it than be cool and miss a thunderstick on the way in."

"Yeah."

"You good, Nux. Don't worry."

The safety of the surrounding canyon was a welcomed sight as the Ford thundered back through it on its way to Crankshaft's garage. Once it returned to its ready station, the boys headed to their bunks, a little road-weary with two hearts in throats. Hak fell asleep recounting the tale of the high-speed burn to Gastown to Slit who humored the War Pup with feigned enthusiasm, which Nux greatly appreciated. Before their night was over, though, Shox took Nux aside.

"You did fine out there," he said, "like I said, it's better to keep Hak safe."

"Yeah, I won't false alarm like that normally..."

"Well, normally, you're driving. Don't worry about it."

"...We can't tell him that we could've died tonight, or worse."

"...or worse."


End file.
